The rain pissed down on Levens shores
The sane rain would rain on superstores
And set off car alarms in our street
Let's burn our clothes and hunt our meat
A day of skies, a day of feasts
We fell to bed, to grunt like beasts
We could live in your wee car, we could never go too far
A flash of sun between your thighs
A perfect black shape to protect my eyes
A swooping hawk, a dying tree
Fuck me, says he, Fuck you, says she
If I'm a clown, then you're a mime
But I'm sure that we'd be friends in time
The selkie put her skin back on and swam away
Back to her own